


The Devil Wears Leather (Loki x Reader)

by cnsltngdtctv



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5255948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cnsltngdtctv/pseuds/cnsltngdtctv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You (as a reader insert), a SHEILD agent, are captured from Stark tower in the middle of the night by Loki and his followers. He will take everything you are determined not to give him, and will push you close to breaking point. Will you stay loyal to the people who work so hard to keep you and everyone on earth safe, or will you break to Loki's will?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Usefullness

**Author's Note:**

> This work has been written after i was inspired by another work of reader insert on this site. It hasn't been beta edited, or really even looked over, but please bear with me in the first couple of chapters while i work out the story line and have more time to proof read.  
> On that same note, if you like it and are interested in betaing or providing your opinions, that would be absolutely wonderful!
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> \- Jess

You awaken, hands fisted above you head, hair splayed out across your face and the thin pillow under your head. You moan, the sound muffled by rough cloth that had been shoved between your teeth, stretched tight cross your cheeks and tied in a hard knot at the back of your head. You tug at your arms, and metal clinked; you hadn’t realised you were shackled, mainly because your skin was just as cold at the light metal that was clasped around your wrists and ankles in the dungeon room that met your eyes as you opened them.  
_What the actual fuck?_ Yesterday, you had fallen asleep in a comfortable room in Stark Tower, awaiting SHEILD orders on when to move out for your next mission; one of half a dozen security detail to be mobilising with Tony Stark the next morning. The multibillionaire playboy was known for pulling pranks on many new arrivals to his mansion, but this was just way out of line. Shaking the hair out of your eyes, while trying to push yourself up into any position other than lying, your head spun, limbs heavier than ever before. Trying to push down the nausea and dizziness, you squeeze you eyes shut, and hear voices you didn’t notice before as a large metal door scrapes open.  
“Well, those drugs sure did the trick, didn’t they?” a deep sultry voice comments as two sets of footsteps enter the small room, and you twist your head towards the dim light spilling through, eyes reopening, squinting to see the owner of the voice. An unfamiliar man stood at attention at the entrance to the space, sculpted arms at his side, hands resting on his weapons. _Okay, not so friendly._ You think to yourself, before moving your head slightly to see the speaker; and stopped dead.  
_Holy. Shit._ Completely on instinct, you begin pulling at your bonds, moaning against the gag as you begin yelling in your mind. _No no no. This cannot be happening. Anyone but him. Anyone but Loki._  
“So, I guess you’ve heard of me.” The tall man chuckled darkly as he loomed over you, black slicked back hair and sharp cheekbones coming slowly into focus; the proud smirk on his face causing you to quickly draw breath in a sort of gasp. He reaches down to gently brush the last of the hair from your face, but as you flinch away from the soft touch, his strong hand quickly grasps your throat, instantly stilling your squirming. “I can only hope you will be more helpful than your companions,” he continues, green eyes boring into yours, and then trailing down your body, that thankfully was still covered by your dark navy silk pyjama suit. It didn’t make you feel any less vulnerable however, when he caught your gaze again, putting a little more pressure on your windpipe as he said “…Although I guess ill find some use for you regardless.” With that he released your throat and glided from the room, pausing just outside the door to glance back at you. “Get her ready.” He commented, before disappearing from the doorway.  
The other man made his way towards you, his facial expression hard and set as he moved, and easily flipped you onto your back, unlocking the chains from above your head and fastening your arms together behind you, before moving to your feet.  
It was your chance; probably the only one you were going to get. As soon as you heard the lock click open, you used all of the strength you could gather to kick back, your feet connecting with the muscles of his stomach. You heard him pull in a hard breath that could’ve almost been a retch, as you spun around to plan your feet on the floor, getting up from the bed as quickly as you could, head throbbing enough to make you feel as though you were going to pass out at any moment. You spun and straightened as the guard righted and advanced, pulling every part of emergency training from your mind, kicked your right leg up and around towards the side of his head. Your movements must have been slower than you thought however, because he managed to grab it and pull, sending you slamming on the cement floor, a groan stuck in your throat as you tried to pull in air through your nose.  
He’d released your ankle as you fell, but as he leant to grab them both again you kicked up, bare foot hitting your (very sensitive) target and the man crumpled. Scrambling to your feet, slightly more difficult with your hands behind your back, you ran towards the door, using your bound hands to pull it closed behind you while you heard a string of vile words shouted in your direction. Looking up and down the empty hallway, you decided to take the opposite direction your captor had taken moments earlier, and ran to the right, black spots clouding your vision; you had no idea how many drugs were in your system, but they were definitely still affecting you in more ways that one.  
You realised you’d reached the end of the hallway, and moved your head quickly from side to side, looking for an escape. Choosing the door to your left you use your elbow to leverage the handle, pushing against the surface with your shoulder and entered the room. As soon as the door clicked closed behind you however, you turned your head and froze: directly ahead, passed out and chained to the wall was Pepper Potts, and just to the side, looking straight at you with glazed over ice blue eyes and a gun pointed at your head, was Clint Barton.


	2. Catacombs

Your eyes went wide as Clint took you in, calculating, as you moaned unintelligibly into the gag you had forgotten you were wearing. You looked back at Pepper, and moved to take a step towards her, just as the agent did the same for you, his finger wrapping around the trigger.  
“Get on your knees.” He commanded, not moving a muscle, or even acknowledging the other, innocent, women who looked like she may have been slowly regaining consciousness. Knowing you were never going to be able to defend yourself in this position, and against this man who you had trained beside on so many occasions. As slowly and gracefully as you could with your bindings, you lowered yourself to the ground, your eyes imploring. “Good girl.” He remarked condescendingly, without a glimpse of the revered Hawkeye in his movements; as per the starkly obvious use of a gun instead of his classic bow and arrow.  
“Now, lay straight on the ground, and don’t even dare trying anything. If pain on your behalf doesn’t sway you, maybe you’ll think twice about our little guests safety.” He said with a smile, pointing the gun at Pepper while moving to fix the irons on your ankles, securing them tighter and dragging you back up from the ground a moments later, an iron grip on your arm and holstering his gun. Pepper opened her eyes as you watched, and met your gaze with one full of pain and worry.  
You hear a whisper of your name as you were turned back towards the door, and Barton barked out a laugh.  
“Don’t worry sweetheart, i'll be back soon.” He said over his shoulder, and you struggled to turn back while he pushed you forward, hearing a whimper as the door swung closed.

Clint lead you back down the hallway towards you sell, where you were met by your guard, looking extraordinarily pissed off, and another, weapons in hand.  
“You’re incompetent, Harper.” The archer remarked, glaring at the brunette of the pair as he shoved you, staggering, at them. “Keep her in line, or feel Loki’s wrath.” He growled, before turning to stalk back towards his prisoner.  
They dragged you down the other hallway with such a firm grip that you could feel bruises already forming by the time you reached your new destination, through the catacombs of underground tunnels. You struggled hard, but futilely, against the two again when you saw what was on the room; a single metal chair was in the middle of the large space, manacles attached to the parts that would hold someone most securely. Behind it, a single chain handing from the ceiling in a space clear of all furniture, and just beyond that were the same bindings that you had seen on Pepper, cuffs to force and open legged stance, arms horizontal on the wall. It was the tables and walls of equipment on either side of the room however, that you feared the most; everything from gags and further restraints to electric shock machines sat ready and waiting for the right moment to cause the most extreme amounts of pain, any of which would and could be used on you at any moment.  
_This isn’t happening. There’s no way this is happening._ You chant, over and over in a head like a mantra as the extra guard held you while ‘Harper’ tore off your clothes, smiling at your muffled protests, and replaced then with a small dark green shift, barely covering any of the right places. You are forced into the chair and buckled down, unable to move an inch, and while your captors stepped back to admire their work, the door opens to once again reveal the God of Mischief himself. You guards take their places on either side of the door to await instruction while the raven-haired man moved towards you, a grin on his face.  
“I heard there was a little trouble with your escorts already this morning,” he started, grin turning from amused to sinister as he noticed the defiance in your expression, “and although I do so love a challenge, I am currently very low on both time and patience. So I guess we should begin.”


	3. Burning Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to every one who has taken the time to read and kudos this work so far!  
> I tried to make this chapter a little longer for you guys, and hopefully they'll stay at about this length from now on as the story progresses.
> 
> Once again this hasn't been proof read because i'm stupidly lazy at present, but hopefully its a bit more readable than the last two.  
> Enjoy!

At the click of Loki’s fingers, the unknown guard at the door moved quickly behind you to untie your gag, while Harper went to collect something off one of the tables behind you, as the Asgardian prince challenged you to retain eye contact.  
_Well, I guess they’ve done this a couple of times before._ Your training with SHEILD required you to take a mandatory “interrogation” unit, which supplied you with the basics to telling any captors false information under the guise of truth in order to further understand their plans upon escape or rescue. Even having passed that course top of your team, and not being a stranger to pain in the slightest, you knew that this session was going to be the most difficult thing you had experienced in your whole life.  
The feeling of dread only intensified however, when it was not brass knuckles, a knife, or even a whip that was bought back into your field of vision, but something much smaller and more sinister; a vile of clear liquid, a syringe, and a very sharp needle.  
“Wow, more drugs? How original.” You mumble to yourself, and Loki hears you and chuckles.  
“Oh no darling, not just any drugs.” He says, brushing your cheek with the back of his fingers once again while you endeavour to not shy away this time “These are in fact a new invention, i simply refer to them as 'pain enhancers'.” He signals for the second guard to continue to draw the liquid into the syringe. “Opposite effect of paracetamol and morphine, they allow the pain receptors to…” at that point you momentarily lost concentration, eyes flitting to your arm with a gasp as the large point enters your arm, and drugs invade your bloodstream. “Well I guess you don’t need to listen to me,” The man in front of you growls, forcing your attention back to him, “Because in about three minutes you’re going to find out for yourself.” And with another snap of his fingers, the two guards move back to their positions.  
Loki walked slowly circled you for a moment, before moving in the direction of a computer screen you had noticed earlier; with his back completely blocking the screen he began lightly tapping with his fingers, you decided to close your eyes and focus on forcing out the pain you were sure to begin feeling, but nothing irregular seemed to be happening.  
“You could’ve just asked your questions nicely you know?” you say innocently, a probably unconvincing smile tugging at your lips. “I mean, I don’t do straight answers very well but surely it was worth a shot?” You see Loki turn back to you, but you keep your eyes focussed ahead on the guards, who watch you with caution, and glance at each other; maybe they hadn’t seen this drug used before either, or believe that you’re somehow immune to its affects. _Interesting._  
“Oh but you see, I don’t like to do things but halves.” The dark voice gets closer as Mischief himself moves swiftly across the floor, to take up a position behind you, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “More importantly though, that would just be boring.” With that last word his hands grasp your shoulders, and a piercing, burning sensation you were most definitely not ready for explodes in every nerve he seems to touch and you cry out. Bucking as much as your restraints allowed to try and move away from his touch only causes him to grip harder, the pain searing its way down your shoulder blades, up into your neck, and along your collar bones. You still, biting your tongue to distract yourself while trying to breathe deeply, shoving each thought to the back of your mind. Loki’s hands release your shoulders and you involuntarily slump slightly into the chair as he laughs, once again shifting so he can take in the expression on your face.  
“Well, now we know that that works,” he comments, eyes gleaming as he shoots a glare at the doormen who avoid any kind of eye contact “the entertainment can commence.”

Loki grasps your chin lightly, but it’s enough to send that same awful sensation up your jaw towards your temples, through to your chin and along your windpipe.  
“Where is your cockroach of a boss Fury hiding my staff?” he bites out, applying a little more pressure, making your head spin. Fury having Loki’s mind control staff made his earnest and reckless attack on Stark towards make a lot more sense, but you had not been privy to that information prior to your capture.  
“What have you done to Hawkeye?” you manage to ask back, and his head tilts in surprise. If your captor didn’t have his alien technology, then how was he still controlling Barton to such an extent? This information did explain to an extent why he hadn’t just done the same to you, and everyone else in this compound however.  
His hands moved to trail down your arms, igniting fire in your veins as he answers with another question, “How much do they know about my plans for New York?” he counters, hands tracing until you feel nothing but that burn all over your skin. You bite your lip hard until you taste the metal of your blood against your tongue. Your eyes squeeze shut as you quickly try to regain control, but just as suddenly your head whips to the side as you receive a strong backhand to your right cheek. “You will answer me when I speak to you.”  
“Sure, boss. But first, you can let Pepper Potts go.” You say, as you feel blood slowly trickle from a split on your cheekbone, looking back up at him, the jolt enough to bring back your attention. “She has nothing to do with this, and you’re only going to piss off some very powerful people. Stark and your brother to start with.”  
“You, my pet, are either stupidly brave or bravely stupid.” Loki replied with an annoyed smirk, taking a step back. “Harper, Leaven, I think our guest needs a little more time to fully comprehend her situation.” You watched the raven haired man as he moved over to one of the side tables once again, grasping a silver metal rod and turning back to face you. “Until then, lets give her a little reminder as to where she is, and who she now serves. Hold her still.”  
All three of the men approached in unison, and it was only then that you realised what exactly Loki was holding; a self heating brand, used primarily on cattle, except this one has an intricate design on it; The reversed rune of Odin, Loki’s sigil, surrounded in a circle of intertwining snakes.  
At once the guards grasp you, one hand each on a shoulder and a hip, pushing into you and sending nauseating waves of pain throughout your core, momentarily distracted until Loki reaches to tear open the top of your shift, bearing the skin of the left side of your chest, and grinned as you tried futilely to struggle, black spots appearing in your vision.  
“Maybe this will teach you not to play the hero.” The man hissed, his dark eyes shimmering as brand neared your flesh, and as it touched, with a final piercing scream, the blackness takes over.


End file.
